Love Like Suicide
by a nyr byrjun
Summary: "I won't hurt you, not if you listen to everything I say." What happens when Bella's stalker finally gets her alone? Mature. Drabble?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! I wrote up this little short this afternoon after I had a dream about something very similar happening last night. For whatever reason, the idea of creating a story based on it wouldn't leave me, and so I figured I'd write it. This will be a sort of drabble fic. Leave me some love in a review if you'd like me to continue.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

 **Note: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.**

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She saw his figure looming in the window, her breath catching in her throat. It was hard to swallow staring, hard not to scream when every part of her body was howling in fear.

"No, no!" She stood, shaking, her hands clutching the roots of her hair. She felt tears brim in her eyes, and fought hard not to expel all the food in her stomach, her anxiety welling up into nausea.

She thought to call the police, only when she rushed over to receiver, she saw the wires had been cut. _When had he been inside?_

Now as she raced to find a hiding place in the house, she heard the door behind her burst open. Too shocked, too scared, she found she couldn't move a muscle now that he was standing right in front of her, the closest he'd been in over a year.

"Please…" She hated how weak she sounded, how broken she'd become since he had started stalking her. Filing a restraining order hadn't given her a piece of mind, for she had known this day would come. One where he'd decided he'd had enough of playing cat and mouse, enough of letting roam free what he thought to be his.

"Bella, love. It's alright. Calm down," his velvet voice did nothing to help her, in fact hearing it so close and so near made it so that she shook more violently, more uncontrollably.

"Please, don't hurt me," she pleaded, images of being raped and beaten running through her head. She wouldn't let herself think of death, not when she was already losing it. She thought instead of the time he'd caught her right out of work, his hand snaking around her head to swallow the scream he knew would well up in her throat.

He'd said the same thing he said now, and she trembled harder for it. "I won't hurt you, not if you listen to everything I say."

She cried harder as he came forward, her sobs making it so that she could barely breathe.

He closed a hand around her forearm, and pulled her trembling body against his. "Don't be frightened." His lips brushed the top of her head as he spoke, "Just give me a chance, and you'll see."

"You shouldn't be here."

He ignored her, instead choosing to graze his hands down the body he had fantasized about for months, waiting, seeking just the right time to strike. At his touch, Bella shivered, swallowing the sounds that threatened to escape her throat. "How long have I waited, Bella?"

Tears streamed down her face as she tried to imagine she was anywhere but in his arms. When she didn't answer, he tipped her head up with his finger, "How long?"

She swallowed as she felt his fingers tighten on her jaw, warning her that if she didn't answer, he'd make good on his earlier threat.

"Two years." She turned away, and this time, he let her.

"That's a long time to want something, only to have it turn you away." She could hear the longing in his voice, the hurt he'd felt all those months trying to make her see that they were meant for each other. At first, she had thought the roses had been sweet, and the little notes he left her had been cute, but soon he had began to smother her, making her feel as if there was no where she could hide.

She would be walking down the street after leaving work, and he'd be there, jumping out to walk alongside her. She found even if she hurried her steps, or insisted she was going to meet some friends, he'd only quicken his pace, and invite himself to join her. It was her constant refusals that had worn him down, had created a fine line of between his acceptance and anger.

He'd let her go, defeated, with a slow simmering rage building in his eyes. She had tried to forget how the green in them had seemed to blaze, seemed to burn right into her promising that one day he would get what he wanted, whether she liked that fact or not.

It seemed that time had come, and he stood, savoring every moment her warm body touched his own. Even through his black overcoat, she could feel the heat of him, the outlined ridge of his cock straining in his pants. Whenever he paused to breathe in her scent, it grew larger against her stomach.

She braced her hands on his chest, and tried to push him away, only to have him trap her in her arms more tightly. It was only when he felt her tears on his neck that he loosened his hold.

"Don't cry, love. Don't cry." His long pianist fingers brushed back the hair that had gotten into her eyes.

"Edward, please let me go."

His hands stilled against her head, and as he stared down at her she could see he meant to do no such thing. His lips were a cruel line, and she anticipated his words before he even spoke them.

"Let's go to bed."

She cried harder still, and knew there would be bruises where his fingers pressed down on her flesh, forcing her to move until they came to her bedroom at the top of the stairs. There, he held her, and shut the door.

"You're going to have a bath, and then we'll lay down." She didn't buy it, not when his eyes seemed to glaze over her even in her long pants, and long sleeved shirt. She looked down as he made a move to rummage in her closet, selecting a flimsy slip Rosalie had bought her as a gag gift for her birthday.

It had sat untouched for three months, and she wondered just what her friends would do when Edward decided to take her away just before Christmas, what they would think had happened to her. _Would they know it was Edward that made it seem as if I'd disappeared off the face of the earth?_

He handed her the slip, and she saw the way he hand had shook. His eyes burned holes into the garment, and it was when she found solace in the locked bathroom that she could finally breathe again.

She took her time taking a bath, refilling it a second time when the water sat against her bare skin cold. She washed, and washed again, even taking the time to work through all the tangles in her hair with conditioner. She was stalling, and she knew it, and so when she was finally finished, and dressed, she sat against the bathroom door willing it to protect her from his wrath.

He knocked, his knuckles hitting the door so hard she slid away from it a couple of inches. "Bella, love. Don't play games with me. Come out, now."

She stared at his shadow through the space between floor and the door, and risked another minute of silence before his fist came down hard against the wood. "Isabella!"

She reached with a hand, still sitting, and opened the door slowly. He saw her there on the floor, and took a deep breath before he reached for her, his hands molding around her soft curves.

He laid her down on the bed, and turned to kick off his shoes. Reaching behind him, he pulled off his black long sleeve-shirt, and unbuckled his belt. Just when she thought he would tug off his pants, he stopped, and slid in behind her on the bed.

She found it was easier to bear laying next to him when she wasn't facing him, and so she turned on her right side, and faced her bookshelves. Only that didn't help her escape his wandering hands, or his strong arms as he engulfed her in such a grip that proved to her he didn't need rope, or handcuffs, he himself could restrain her just fine.

"It's alright," he told her when she began to whimper, and he continued canvasing her body with his fingertips, trailing them down the skin of her arms, up the skin of her thighs where when met with the end of her slip, he continued his movements lazily up her stomach. "I just want to feel you."

His soft voice reverberated through her chest as he leaned against her back, and it was almost enough to stop her crying, but still tears continued down her face, her lips trembling with effort to not make out a sound that let him know just how scared she was.

She practically yelped when she felt him thrust his clothed erection against her backside, and scrambled to get away though there was no way she was strong enough to fight him completely off.

His voice was strained when he spoke, and he thrust shallowly again, "Just let me…just let me…" He never finished asking her what he wanted her to let him do, he came inside his pants with a fifth thrust against her, and there was no need to ask anything of her after all.

He breathed harshly against her neck, and groaned as he felt the last shocks of his release come as he moved into her body without penetrating her. "Fuck," he cursed, and kissed her on the side of the neck, all the tension leaving his spent body.

"I love you," he whispered in the semi-darkness, the only light source in her room being the bedside table lamp. "I love you," he prompted again only to be met with her silent weeping.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is what happens when I can't sleep. Reviews are always welcome! Hope you guys are enjoying it so far.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

 **Note: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.**

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Bella's reality seemed worse in the morning. She could barely make it out of his arms to go to the bathroom, and when she came back into her room, Edward sat awake against the headboard. His fingers traced lazy patterns into her bed-sheets, and she stood still, unsure of just what to do or what to say.

"Where were you?" He asked, though he had just seen her exit the bathroom, the door still slightly ajar.

"I had to pee." Her voice was unexpectedly hoarse, and she fought hard to clear it just enough so that her throat didn't feel too dry.

"Why didn't you try to escape?" When she said nothing, he grinned, thinking he'd won in some way. "No matter, I'm glad you didn't. We have to start packing."

He began getting dressed, sitting on the edge of her bed to tie the laces of his dress shoes.

"Edward," she said, trying to sound as tender as she could. "Why do we have to pack?"

He looked up, mildly startled at her gentle tone. "We're going to go to Seattle, you and I."

"But my friends, and family are here." She took a seat next to him, and made sure that he could feel the warmth of her scantily clad thigh against his. "It would make me sad to leave them."

"It's the only way we can be together." There was no mistaking the fierceness in his voice, nor the way his eyes began to narrow in suspicion at her sudden warmth.

"No, it isn't. I can have the restraining order taken away." She laid a hand on his shoulder, and leaned closer, close enough so that her breath melded with his as she hovered her lips only centimeters away from his.

"You're lying," he accused her, though his voice grew unsure, grew more hopeful the longer she had him underneath her spell.

"No, Edward. I'm not." She wove her right hand into his bronze hair, and pulled him close so that their lips met, hers hesitant, his all consuming. He moaned beneath her mouth, and soon she found herself underneath the weight of his body, struggling to breath, struggling to stay in character.

"Why?" He demanded. "Why now?" He pulled away, breathing heavily bracing himself on his hands above her.

"I saw the hurt in your eyes last night. The hurt I put there, and I'm sorry." It was the best she could think up under such pressure, but as she watched his eyes begin to soften as they gazed down her, she thought she may have a chance.

"Why did you push me away for so long?"

"I was scared."

He laughed softly, and she could see the sudden happiness in his eyes, feel what he thought was love in the way he held her. "You don't have to be afraid of me, love. All I want is to be with you, and if you let me, I promise to cherish everyday I have with you."

She didn't understand the sudden flutter she felt in the pit of her belly, nor the way her nipples started to harden underneath the flimsy slip she wore, privy to his gaze.

He noticed the change in her body, the heat that seemed to radiate with such intensity that it started to resemble his own want for her. With a quick movement of his hand, he slipped his fingers underneath the slip she wore to find her hot and wet.

She looked into his eyes as he dipped his fingers inside, and both of them were stunned by the deep throated moan that escaped her lips. "Please," she didn't know if she was asking him to keep going or to get off of her. Whatever it was she wanted was silenced by his lips once more as he took his fill of her.

Together, they rocked as his fingers dove into her, seeking the space inside where ridged flesh gave way to bliss. He swallowed her scream with his mouth, and shivered at the feel of her cream on his fingers, so sweet, so unexpected, the very essence of Bella.

Even after he'd made her come on his fingers, he continued, rubbing his fingertips against that same bundle of nerves inside until she seemed to wither beneath his touch. It was almost as if he was trying to prove to her because he could make her feel this way, that he had been right all along.

Afterward, she lay beneath him, her skin glistening with afterglow. Her hair stuck to the dewy skin of her forehead, and she could feel her breath escaping in pants told of what she had just experienced, and her horrified disbelief at the knowledge that she had let him touch her like that, had encouraged him to do so even.

It was with one look at his glowing face that she burst into tears.

"It's alright, love. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. That was…" He paused trying to find a word suitable enough to describe just what a beautiful thing he had been the cause of, a witness to, but failed miserably. Instead he gazed at her with new found reverence, and stroked a hand down her back as if to calm her.

"I shouldn't have," Bella protested through tears. She attempted to hide her face in her hands, only to have him take her wrists in his own. "It's wrong!"

Her sobs continued to grow louder, and it was with a firm kiss to her lips that Edward got her to quiet down. "No, it's not. That was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She shook her head with conviction, and wiped underneath her eyes vigorously with the back of her hand. She couldn't look him in the eye, she couldn't do anything but feel shame course throughout her entire body. What had begun as an act had quickly morphed into this confusing mess.

What was she thinking kissing him like that? Pulling him close when she had been avoiding him for as long as she could remember? When had this dangerous situation evolved into a heavy petting session?

She swallowed, and found she had no more words to say.

He stroked her hair away from her face when she made a move to sit up, and continued running his hand down her back in what he thought were soothing motions. But inside, Bella was anything but calm.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sleepless nights and a bit of writing does the body... well I don't know really.**

 **Disclaimer: Still don't own Twilight, never going to own Twilight. But has anyone else heard about Stephenie's new book _The Chemist_? I'm dying here. Still wish she would finish Midnight Sun or write New Moon from Jacob's point of view. Or the sequel to the Host. I guess I'll just have to keep dreaming.**

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Her tears ceased, and she found after she took a deep breath that she could almost lie to herself about what just happened. She hadn't been willing. No. She couldn't have been. He had taken what he wanted, and that was it. Because he'd made her feel things no once else had didn't make a difference. Her ruse shouldn't have to suffer from her confusion. She turned to him now, and looked into his green eyes, hoping that somehow, someway she would find an opportunity to escape.

The longer she stared, she realized just how attractive he appeared. His tousled bronze hair fell into his eyes, and without moving his hand, he tipped his head back until the lock fell back behind his ear, his vision no longer obscured.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked at her, his lips coming up into a slow smirk. His gaze never wavering, he sucked his fingers covered with her cream into his mouth.

She should have felt disgusted, repulsed even. But the sight in front of her made the throb between her legs grow until it formed a full fledged ache that made her breath catch in her throat. She swallowed, out of breath, eviscerated by lust.

She let out a small whimper without meaning to, and leaned unconsciously towards him, as if to initiate further contact. But the spell was broken when he spoke again.

"We can't take too much with us. Only a suitcase, and a couple of bags."

Her brows furrowed with confusion until she remembered what he'd said earlier about them leaving to Seattle.

"I don't understand. I thought we weren't going to go. The restraining order-"

He interrupted her with a firm shake of his head. "Bella, I want to trust you, I do." His fingers skimmed the skin of her thighs softly as he looked at her from beneath his eyelashes. "But we need to do this. _I_ need to do this in order to feel safe."

She stared down at his dark slacks, and resisted the urge to look up at him when he tipped her head up with his hand. "I've already leased an apartment for us there, and we'll have everything we need."

His thumb stroked her bottom lip, and after a moment she finally found the strength to pull away. Her silence was all she had. Whatever she meant to say would fall on deaf ears. She knew then without a doubt in her mind that he wouldn't listen to her, or believe anything she had to say. Her reluctance, her rejection of him had seeped so deeply into his skin that any ploy she attempted now, any convincing on her part that she would stay with him willingly was a waste of time. He wouldn't believe anything she said.

She fell back against the bed, and closed her eyes, bringing her hands to her face. Her sobs were soft, barely a breath of hysteria mixed with grief. She was weak with mourning for what her life was about to become, and she felt as helpless as she ever had.

"Shh, love. I promise to take care of you. There's no need to cry, you'll see. We'll find happiness with each other."

"Fuck you." Her words blazed with hatred for him, and once she started, she couldn't seem to stop. "I'm not going there, you delusional fuck! I'm not going anywhere!"

He slapped her before she had a chance to say anything else.

She clutched a hand to her face, and watched him as he breathed heavily, his eyes wide with anger at what she had said and shock for what he had just done. With a deep breath, he tried to contain himself and reach for her.

"Bella-"

"Get away!" She cried, leaping from the bed to the corner of the room nearest to her. She stayed clutching at her face, and slid down the pink wall until her knees came up under her jaw.

She cried, and held her face. Her tears blurred her vision, and it wasn't until he knelt in front of her that she realized that he had gotten up off the bed.

"It wasn't suppose to be this way," he said, a note of desperation leaking into his voice. He took her hand from her face, and touched the tips of his cool fingertips to her marked cheek. She watched as his eyes grew red, and felt how his hand seemed to tremble against her skin.

"Let me go, Edward."

He shook his head. "You know I can't do that."

"I won't tell anyone about last night. Or this morning. Please." She wrapped her hand around his wrist.

He pushed away from her, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"The sooner you realize that you're mine, the smoother things will be."

She watched him as he started to rifle through her closet, and thought of taking her lamp off her bedside table and attacking him from behind. Only she wasn't so sure her attempt at disarming him would be successful. She stared at the muscles in his back, coiled with tense from their fight, the way they moved when his arms reached up take the duffle bag she had on the top shelf and knew he would pounce the moment she tried to strike.

She didn't blush when he began to shift through her undergarments in her drawer, instead she felt a shiver of disgust, as if the way his fingers traced the intricate patterns on the lace were an encore of the way he touched her before. And seeing it from this distance, it made it easier for her to realize she had to find a way out, and fast, before they started moving.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is the first of many updates I plan for the month ahead for my stories. I sincerely apologize for my absence, but hope that you will all forgive me. Thank you.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

 **Note: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.**

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She stayed huddled in the corner, watching as he packed her bags, making sure to wipe his prints off of the things he didn't think we were worth taking with them with the back of his shirt sleeve.

She wasn't surprised when he surveyed her bookshelves; he picked out her favorites, the ragged paperbacks whose spines were held together with scotch tape, the corners of each page bent and unruly, making it impossible for them to lay flat against each other. She hadn't needed to tell him which ones to stuff into her bag, he knew things about her that she herself sometimes didn't realize.

To say it was unnerving was an understatement.

She was made even more uneasy when he stilled, just noticing the photo frame on the top shelf of her bookcase. His hand reached up effortlessly, and she waited silently, hoping he wouldn't throw it across the room.

He stared down at the photograph, his eyes dark. "You taunt me, do you?"

There was a silent threat in his voice, a promise to be made if she didn't choose her words correctly.

"It's just a photograph." Bella said, knowing that it wasn't. Not to him. Not to someone who revered photographs of her stolen in moments where she hadn't know he had been following, always just a step or two behind in the shadows with a camera in his hands.

In the beginning, these stolen moments captured in frames and splashes of color had been all he had. A mere glimpse of her that he'd animated with his thoughts. It was easy then to mold her into what he wanted, convinced in his mind that anything he thought of her had to be true. That was what had made her reluctance all the more harder to swallow. He hadn't anticipated just how unwilling and uninterested in him she would be.

The photo frame shook in his hand, suspended above the floor only by the tight grip of his angry fingers. "I thought I had taken all the photographs of him away from you." His silent fury began to seep into his voice, becoming louder, bleeding into the small space between them.

"Charlie gave this one to me." Her mentioning her father had been intentional. She knew that Edward knew exactly who he was, and just how much power he had to put him away.

They'd met a handful of occasions, most ending with Edward being escorted out of her apartment, a set of metal handcuffs around his wrists. The distaste Charlie had for him couldn't be met or measured. He thought any man who had to force a woman to do anything was the scum of this earth, and in her case, trying to force her into a relationship when they had only met in a Starbucks.

"He's going to catch you, you know. He's going to know it was you who took me."

Edward pretended not to hear her, and proceeded to wipe his prints off of the photo frame, placing it on the top of the bookcase as if it had never been moved. Leaving it there was just the same as throwing it in the trash. It wasn't like she was ever going to see it again.

It seemed every limb of his had become frozen. With fear or with anger, Bella couldn't tell. All she knew was when he turned to face her, that there was a cold glint to his eyes, as if by sneaking the photograph into her room, she had betrayed him in some way.

"Get dressed. We don't have much time." His words were clipped, soft, yet firm. She debated for a moment about whether or not she should listen to him, if his inevitable reaction was worth all the trouble, worth the struggle.

She stood from her corner of the room, resigned. If he saw that she did as he said, he would let his guard down whether or not he realized it. She would strike then. She knew the worst thing that she could let happen was letting him take her to a second location. There wasn't a guarantee she would ever be found.

Bella walked over to her closet, and started going through her hangers. She chose dark jeans, and a cashmere sweater knowing they were the most practical thing she could wear. It would be easy for her to run.

Her hand stilled as she began to tug both items from each of their hangers, feeling his hand run down her back before reaching back up to slide each strap of her nightgown down her shoulders. The feel of his fingers on her bare skin made her breath die in her throat, from fear or reluctant desire she wasn't sure.

"Edward?" she asked, hesitantly. He could hear her anxiety in her voice, but didn't stop until her nightgown lay on the swell of her hips, her breasts exposed to the warm air of the room.

His hands hovered a moment, and she swore she could have heard him swallow, his breath coming onto her neck in heated pants. When he finally grasped her breasts between his fingers, he said, "God made you for me. See how perfectly you fit into my hands, how your breath steals when I come near." He brushed his erection against her backside, "I know you feel it too."

Wetness pooled between her thighs, and she squeezed, trying to alleviate the ache. "No," she lied.

He chuckled against her hair made damp from sweat. "It's alright, love. It's alright." His voice was gentle, coaxing her to melt into his arms. His fingers danced alongside her hip until he grasped her where it she needed it the most, a soft moan escaping her lips. His thumb brushed her clit before his fingers plunged inside her wet heat, seeking the spot he knew lay hidden just within reach, the spot that would make her see just how they belonged together.

He pressed on the bundle of nerves hard, then harder, until her hand came out to clutch at his wrist desperately, her thighs quivering around his right forearm. "Edward!"

"Yes, love. Say my name, scream it." His voice grew louder with passion, and he watched as tears slid down her cheeks in earnest, from pleasure and some other emotion he couldn't decipher.

She clenched around his fingers tighter as he thrust them deeper. "He can't do this to you, can't make you feel the way I do." She could hear the edge of anger and satisfaction in his tone, but couldn't think to reply, not when what he was doing made her head all soft.

"Please," she begged. She had long forgotten about escape, all she could do now was feel, drown in the ecstasy of his heated touch.

As she tilted her head back to rest on his shoulder, he nudged her nose with his, and captured her lips in a kiss that made her hips buckle so that his hand was seated as deep inside as it could be.

"I love you," he whispered, against her lips, and this time, it was his eyes that were wet with the sheer image of her. Wet with the knowledge that they would finally be together, and that nothing would stand in the way of his possession of her, not even Bella herself. He smiled, and held her afterwards as she fell into a heap at his feet, utterly destroyed.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm really enjoying this story, I hope you guys are too. Reviews are always welcome, I'd love to hear what you're thinking ;)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

 **Note: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.**

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Bella couldn't find it in her to stand. Her thighs felt weak, and she trembled against the front of his knees where she was draped over Edward's lap on the floor. She could feel the muscles in his legs, and arms as she laid against him, her body soft and unwilling to find the strength to move. If she didn't know any better, she was in shock.

She hovered on the precipice of sanity, reality, watching herself from a distance. She didn't recognize the woman who let the man she had been avoiding for years kiss her skin as if they were lovers. He whispered in her ear, and she heard it, his voice faraway as if projected on a television screen. She watched, strangely transfixed as the woman looked up.

"Are you alright, love?" His forehead creased with concern, and he reached once more to kiss her hair, brushing her cheek with the ends of his fingers.

"I'm fine," her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. She swallowed, finding her throat painfully dry.

He saw her silent struggle. "I'll get you something to drink." He carefully picked her up, hooking his arms effortlessly under her back and knees, and placed her on the edge of the bed.

She closed her eyes, and escaped for a moment into thoughtless abandon. Bella found that no words ran through her head, and all she could fathom was the blackness behind her eyelids. It wasn't until she felt him tip up her jaw, and the glass pressing against her lips that she realized Edward had come back.

She drank the liquid shyly at first, then earnestly, until the water began to slosh around the cup and run down her neck and to her breasts in hurried streams. He wiped at the spilled water on her skin with his palm, his eyes liquid molten.

She was startled when she felt his hardness against her center, clothed but persistent. He looked away, suddenly embarrassed. He swallowed, his adams apple suspended before it dropped down in his throat.

She knew he hadn't finished, could feel his want for her to touch him in the air, but she couldn't. She couldn't even find it in her to get dressed; he came to her and pulled jeans over her legs, and the cashmere sweater over her arms, her body bordering on comatose.

She watched, her eyes unfocused as he gathered her things into her bag.

"They'll think you've gone on a trip." She listened without comment, pressing a hand to her forehead when he crouched down next to her and spoke. "You've gone on a trip to find yourself. You're not happy here. You'll write that. Here's a pen and paper."

The items appeared next to her on the bed before she had the time to process what he had said. His words seemed faraway somehow, abstract. She didn't understand what she was writing until she had signed her name at the bottom, her clumsy scrawl unmistakably Bella. Edward couldn't forge that, but now he didn't need to. He'd gotten what he wanted, and now he was going to take her away forever.

"Edward," she broke the silence with a sob. "Edward, please."

He snatched the note away from her before she could rip it in two, placing it on the bedside table under the glass cup he had just fed her from. He made sure to wipe his fingerprints off the sides with his shirt sleeve, ever aware that he didn't belong here. He didn't belong anywhere near her.

"Listen to me, love." He took her face in his hands, watching as the tears brimmed, escaping from her eyes and spilling over her cheeks. "We're going to Seattle." A sob interrupted him, but he went on as if he hadn't heard her. "You can be a good girl and come quietly, or…" He took one hand from her face, and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a syringe filled to the brim with clear liquid that Bella knew would incapacitate her so he could make the trip without any problems.

"No," Bella pleaded. "No, please!" The desperate look she gave him should have made him feel something, anything. Remorse, guilt. But she could see, with just one glance that he didn't feel those things. Her tears only made him want her more, his selfish need for her making her reluctance merely an inconvenience.

"I won't need to use this then?"

She shook her head vigorously before whispering, "No. I'll be…" He watched, waiting for the words. "I'll be a good girl."

He stroked her hair away from her face gently, pure, unadulterated affection in his eyes.

He held out his hand to help her from the bed, and took her trembling form into his arms. "I promise everything will be okay, love." He could feel her tears sliding down the skin of his neck, and onto his collar, but pulled her to the doorway of her childhood bedroom regardless of the fact that that was the last thing in the world she wanted to do.

With one arm wrapped around her waist, he wheeled a small suitcase along behind them, another bag filled with her toiletries dangling from his fingers.

Each step Bella took down the stairs was torture; more than once she stilled, and Edward had to nudge her forward. The closer they came to the front door, the more she realized that this was actually happening, that Edward had finally won.

It was when they had taken their feet off the bottom step that it happened.

"I don't want to go, I don't want to go!" There was a hysterical note to her voice, and Bella began to struggle in his one armed hold, scratching at the skin of his hand. He hissed, recoiling from her sharp attack.

"Bella!" He uttered her name like a curse. "Stop!" He'd long dropped the handle of the suitcase, and her bag of toiletries. He took her wrists in his hands, mercilessly holding them in his grasp as she attempted to shove and punch at his chest.

"Leave me alone! Let me go!" Her throat was raw as she screamed, her face blotchy from her miserable tears.

"Baby, calm down," his voice was like a soft caress, lulling her into the lie that he'd be gentle if she listened, that if she obeyed, he would show her mercy after her outburst. But she knew, just as he knew, that the moment she surrendered, he was going to pull the needle from his back pocket and stick it into the side of her neck.

She leaned her forehead against his chest, her long tresses hiding her face. "Please, Edward. Don't hurt me. I couldn't bear it if you hurt me."

"I don't want to but I can't trust you." She could hear the indecision in his voice, the struggle within him to believe her or trust his instincts.

"I'll be good, I promise. I won't scream or hit you anymore." She dared a glance at him only to find him looking down at her tear-stricken face with a softness in his eyes.

"I'm sorry." She felt the pinch in the side of her neck as he struck her with the syringe.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey, guys. Sorry for all the infrequent updates. Life has just been so blah (having the flu for almost a month and a half will fuck you up). I just finished applying to grad school, and have started my final semester as an Undergrad. To say it's been stressful is an understatement. I finally had some time to sit down and finish this chapter after setting it aside a couple of weeks ago. With the snow storm that hit a few days ago, I've found myself home with a week off from classes. Updates for Girl, I Need You, Joyride (Omen) & The Killing Moon are in the works so please bear with me! I don't like to post anything I'm not sure of but know I haven't forgotten them. As for this story, please feel free to spread the word about it. Any and all reviews are much appreciated! Without further ado, here's Chapter 6. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

 **Note: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.**

* * *

When Bella woke, it was dark. She didn't register the pain in her body until she went to move, only then did it seem to slither all along her joints, her head as heavy as lead above the pillow she was resting on.

She swallowed, her mouth feeling like it'd been stuffed with cotton. She reached up and felt along her neck for the prick mark only to find that she didn't even have the strength to keep her arm up for too long. She rolled over, bringing her knees up to her chest. Her cries were hoarse, muffled as she sobbed into her shoulder.

"It's alright, love. It's alright," she felt his hand then, cool on her forehead as he felt her skin burning up.

"It hurts, Edward."

"Shh, I'm going to make it better. I'll make it stop."

"Please." She could see nothing but his hands through her tears as he took her into his arms.

She felt his lips on her hair before he pulled back. "Open your mouth." As she hesitated, he nudged her lips open by holding her gently but firmly by the jaw, his fingers digging into her soft cheeks. "It's for the pain."

A small pill was placed on her tongue, and to make sure she swallowed it, he pressed down on her throat, willing it to contract under the pressure of his grip.

She began to cry again, but took solace in his arms, resting her head on his hard chest. He shook his left leg, rocking them back and forth as she fell back into sleep.

When she woke once more, she could tell that it was dawn, the air feeling still and quiet. The bed was empty save for her, and the curtains were drawn shut in the small room. Bella couldn't remember how she had gotten here, if Edward had driven his Volvo or rented a car for the fear of being tracked down by his license plates, but she knew without a doubt in her mind that she wasn't anywhere near her old home.

A tear slid down her face as she remembered the last moments when she had still had a chance. Now that she was here, she doubted Edward would ever let her see the light of day again. Absentmindedly, her fingers sought out the mark on her neck, and this time, her arm held steady as she traced the puncture wound once, twice, feeling for herself what she already knew.

 _ _He drugged me.__ She wasn't sure if she should be surprised or even outraged at the fact. Those few hours in her bedroom, ones that found her at the mercy of his skilled fingers and his lips that muttered sweet nothings into her ear, were all a ploy. The man that she knew to be Edward Cullen was dangerous, and his shoving a syringe into her neck proved that.

It hadn't mattered that she had begged him, pressing close against his chest, not hurt to her. It hadn't mattered that she had swallowed her pride as she groveled for her freedom, Edward wasn't a man who would listen. He wanted her, and now that he had her he wasn't not going to let her go over a few shed tears.

A lump started in her throat when she turned in the bed to face the door of the room to find it slightly ajar. A light illuminated the hallway and fell onto the space by her pillow. If she listened closely, she could hear the sound of someone shuffling around, and of a sink being turned on, the water running for only a moment before it was shut off.

Bella knew he was waiting for her, and that even if she chose to hide in her room all day, that he would come for her when he tired of her resistance.

It was a shaky inhale of breath that she found the strength to stand, and to touch her hand to the door. She didn't know how long she stood there, simply breathing with a trickle of sweat running down the back of her neck, only that when she left the room her new life would begin.

She walked down the short hallway, her left hand outstretched as if seeking the wall for support, and came about a scene that would have delighted anyone but her.

There he stood with his back to her, hovering over a skillet with a spatula in his hand. Whatever he was cooking gave a slight sizzle, and pop and he hastily made to turn it over. He heard her whimper just as he was turning off the stove.

"Bella, love?" There was no mistaking the concern in his voice, nor his excitement. She wasn't sure what was worse, only that the look in his eyes made the tears come harder until she had to stifle her sobs with the back of her hand. His face fell at the sight. "Don't cry, love. Come here."

He cradled the back of her head with his hand, and pulled her face into his chest, willing her tears to go away with his love. "Edward-"

"Shh." He pulled back, and brushed the moisture underneath her eyes with soft strokes of his thumbs before focusing her with his gaze. "They'll be no more of this. No more crying, or pleading." She made a move to turn her face away, only to feel his hand come up underneath her jaw, firm and rough. "Do you understand me?"

There was an edge to his voice masked by softness. Though his words were no more than a whisper, she could hear a fierceness in them that made her still in his grasp, one that seemed to overtake her being until she found herself listening to him, and following her way to the small oval table to the left of the stove.

He told her to sit down, and before she knew it, he had come up behind her to push her chair in. He stroked a hand down the length of her hair, twisting one of her curls with his finger before he turned away to plate whatever he had been cooking.

The sight of the silver dollar pancakes on her plate brought the tears rushing back so fast she had to blink to catch them before they fell, and she broke one his rules. It had been one of the first things she had ever said to him. __Whenever I'm sad, my dad makes me silver dollar pancakes. An entire plate of them.__

 ** _ _ **What do you eat them with?**__**

 _ _Syrup, butter. Sometimes I don't even put anything on them at all. I just pick them up with my hands and shove them in my mouth.__

He'd laughed before he asked, **__**They're that good?**__**

 _ _My dads? Sure. They're always so fluffy, and crisp on the edges. I've never had any others that compare.__

He'd grinned, sending her a sly lookfrom underneath his lashes. **__**Maybe mine can.**__**

 _ _I'd love to see you try.__

Now it seemed the time had come. Before her sat a jug of amber syrup, and a stick of butter on a rectangular glass dish. She could smell a pot of coffee brewing on the stove, the bitter notes making her nose wrinkle in distaste.

"Don't worry," Edward said, before placing a glass of milk by her wrist. "The coffee's all mine." His smirk did little to ease her growing discomfort at his attempt at playing house.

"Thank you," she murmured as he took his seat across from her. There was a moment of hesitation on his end, and it was under the weight of his stare that she realized he was waiting for her to start to eat first. She looked at the table searching for a knife and fork, only to find the tablecloth bare of any silverware. Blushing, she took a pancake between her thumb and forefinger and brought it to her lips, taking a bite that left only the edges unmarked with the lining of her teeth.

All the while, his eyes never strayed from her face. If anything, in this apartment, in her prison he didn't need to worry about staring at her for too long or letting his real feelings show on his face. Here, she belonged to him. Here, he finally had control.

"Well?" He prompted. "As good as Charlie's?"

Misty-eyed at the mention of her father, of his name spoken so effortlessly by the enemy, Bella reluctantly nodded, hating him all the more for trying to steal one more piece of her life.

Edward smiled, his green eyes vibrant. "Good. You won't be sad anymore, not if I can help it."

But just as he said this Bella doubted she would ever have a moment unmarred by unhappiness again.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Very short update. Please forgive me. I'm going to try to update all my stories at least once this fall, and so this is the beginning of a promise I hope to keep. Thanks for sticking with me.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

 **Note: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.**

* * *

The pancakes sat like lead in Bella's stomach.

Every breath was a struggle, and she found herself bringing her hand underneath the table to clutch at the space just above her bellybutton. The ache grew so suddenly that she was tempted to force her fingers against the back of her throat to alleviate the pain.

She wondered if the look on Edward's face when she expelled the silver dollars all over the floor of their new home would be enough to cancel out his anger or worse. His concern.

Either reaction was unwanted, and so she sat, still holding the palm her hand to her stomach as Edward cleared the table, and began to wash the dishes.

 _How was she going to survive this? Survive him?_ She didn't think she could last another morning like this, much less however long he planned to keep her. If she could hardly stomach one forced conversation, and meal at the same table as him, there was little hope that she would make it out unscathed if she ever did find away to escape his clutches.

She felt his stare on her face as he turned to collect her empty glass, and turned away, fighting the urge to flee from the kitchen. She knew he would only follow her if she turned to go back to her room, but she just couldn't take it anymore. She ran to the bathroom without even having to think about it.

She turned the lock just as his hand came around to turn the knob. "Bella," he warned, his velvet voice stern and soft all at the same time. "Be a good girl, and open the door." He didn't have to say _or else._ She heard the threat in his voice all the same.

She huddled in the small corner of the room near the bathtub, tensing as his threats grew louder and more obscene the longer she stayed on the other side of the door, and away from him.

She couldn't recall when the tears started or when she realized this was pointless, but the look in his eyes when he kicked the door open made all her bravery and resilience die in the pit of her stomach.

"No, no please!" She begged as he snacked his hand around her small wrist, his fingers biting in their grasp around her flesh.

"Why can't you just listen to me? Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?" He dragged her into the bedroom where she had woken up, and attempted to pull her over his lap. Her struggling only made him angrier, and by the time she found herself draped over his legs, her panties around her ankles, and ass bare to his gaze, she could feel the barely contained violence humming throughout his body.

"I'll be good, I swear it. Please, Edward. Don't do this!" Her tears had already begun to seep though the material of his pants, and onto the bedding, but he continued as if he hadn't heard her or felt the warm moisture leaking from her eyes.

His hand came down on her backside hard, and fast and stinging. Her cries rang throughout the room, and by the time it was over, and his fingers were rubbing circles into her tender skin, her throat felt raw and scratchy.

When he asked her why she had been punished, she could barely muster a reply. "B-because..I was bad."

"Go on," he crooned, as if speaking to a small child.

"I locked the door, a-and I wasn't suppose to." Her voice broke halfway through the sentence, and when she finished, she began to sob into his thigh, clutching the hard muscle as if seeking a place to bury her face in.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Bella." He sighed heavily, as if exhausted. His rubbing continued, his thumbs stroking her flesh in a steady rhythm. "If you would just listen to me, and behave, I wouldn't have to do these things."

"I want to go home!" She pleaded, shaking in his grasp. "I want to go home…"

"You _are_ home. Right where you belong. With me."

"No, no!" Her tiny fists began to beat against his thigh, and he shifted her so her blows landed on his chest instead. He caught her wrists in his hands when she moved to strike his face, and simply held her until she stilled.

"Hush, love. It'll be alright. You'll be alright, soon."

* * *

When she had stopped fighting, he had taken her into his waiting arms, and held her as she cried. _It was strange_ , Bella thought. Strange that she could find comfort in the same place that caused her the most despair.

She could almost pretend nothing was wrong when he held her, but whenever he shifted, and his lips pressed against her hair, she was reminded of just how wrong this was. How wrong together they were.

"That's my good girl," he whispered, his hand stroking her hair down her back. At her whimper, he continued, "You don't have to be afraid. I'll take care of you. All you have to do is listen to me." His words from earlier resurfaced, beckoning her to see reason. To see that if she would just be his once and for all, she might have a chance.

 _You have to do this, Bella. You have to do this if you want to escape._

And so when his lips sought hers, she returned his kiss, however shyly, and unsure.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I know it's been a really long time since I've updated, but I hope you'll enjoy this one.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

 **Note: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.**

* * *

 _He was staring at her again._

 _She could feel his eyes on her face, deeply assessing her features, as if looking for something he couldn't seem to find or place._

 _She could tell, even from this distance, that he was frustrated. With her, and her lack of trying. He simply couldn't understand her unwillingness, couldn't find an explanation for her rejection. He'd been nothing but nice to her. And suffocating, and demanding and persistent. She didn't know how much more of this she could take, if anything._

 _Taking the last sip of her latte, she stood, heading for the door at a brisk pace. His footsteps sounded just behind her as she'd known they would._

 _"Is there something you need, Edward?" She asked, letting go of all pretense. He understood immediately, and stepped in line with her on the sidewalk._

 _"You, Bella. Always, you."_

 _"Edward," she sighed, not knowing what else to say to dissuade him that she already hadn't. She was growing tired, and anxious, and she couldn't remember what it was like at all before Edward had invaded her life. What it was like to be able to walk the street without her skin and blood tingling from the nervousness of an impending sighting of his bronze hair and green eyes. It seemed he was always waiting for her whenever she turned her head._

 _"Love, just listen to me." He reached out to grab her wrist, making her still at the boldness of his actions. "I know that you don't know me that well, and that I've been, well, a little persistent," the corner of his lip turned up at his choice of words, "But how are we ever going to be together if you refuse to even give the time of day?"_

 _"This is why," she began, feeling the tremble begin in her voice, and in the ends of her fingertips. "You assume I want to be in a relationship with you when I don't. I want to be left alone. I want to be able to make my own decisions, and not feel as if I'm being forced into anything."_

 _"Bella, I'm-" His face began to fall as he saw the determination and finality in her gaze._

 _"No. That's my answer, and I ask that you please respect it."_

 _"It's because of him, isn't it?" There was an edge to his voice, that if she didn't know any better, was laced with an undercurrent of hurt. She could see just in his eyes how close he was to breaking._

 _"What?"_

 _"Jacob Black," his velvet voice was dangerously low._

 _"How do you know about him?"_

 _"I know that you grew up with him in Forks. He's 25, living in Chicago, and that you've been in touch with him lately." His voice lowered then, deceptively soft. "Do you really think he could give you all that I could? Do you think he's better than me?"_

 _"Edward, it's not a matter of who is a better person. I've known Jacob my whole life, and you're a stranger. And if I did become involved with him, it's simply none of your business. I have to go."_

 _"No, wait," he insisted, his fingers tightening their forceful grip on her wrist._

 _"You're hurting me, Edward. Please let me go."_

 _"No!" He suddenly shouted, his eyes manic, and body coiled with tension. "No, Bella. I won't let you go until you say yes. Until you see just how close minded and childish you're being. We have something, Bella. Something I've never felt before. Don't push me away because you're scared."_

 _"You're delusional," She said, using her weight, and all of her strength to break his hold. "Now leave me alone before I call my father!"_

* * *

Her bags sat in the corner of the bedroom, untouched and waiting to be unpacked. She didn't need to ask him where she would put her clothes, he had taken it all on himself to show her which drawers were his, and which drawers were hers.

"And this is where I want you to put your nightgowns, and everything for bed. No shoes in the apartment, only slippers," he said when he saw her reach for her flats. "You won't be needing those." He didn't need to say she wouldn't be leaving the inside of her prison anytime soon.

When he saw her begin to pull out the same ragged paperbacks he had packed into her bags himself, he became animated. "I got you new bookshelves. Come and let me show you," he said, taking her small hand in his and leading her down the hallway.

She trembled, her backside still ablaze with pain, fearing what would happen if she didn't follow him.

"Look at them, look at the finish on the wood," he said, stroking a hand over the glossy mahogany. "Nothing cheap like the one's Charlie got you." She swallowed, feeling her lips tremble with the urge to scream and attack him. He turned then, stroking the fingers of her hand he still held. "Aren't they beautiful? I wanted only the best for you, my love."

"Yeah, they're great," she managed.

He smiled then, before pulling her further into the living room. A black sectional sat in the center of the room, a matching recliner off to the right side. "Everything's new, just from the warehouse." She picked up on the hint of pride in his voice. "I even managed to have the cable installed last week, just in time."

Before she knew it, she let go of his hand, and reached for the remote on the glass coffee table, pressing ON. He seemed to have realized his mistake just as she landed on the news. "Maybe now's not the time for television, love." He said taking the remote out of her hand just as her face flashed on the screen.

He swiftly turned off the box, and disconnected several wires from behind the flat screen, before turning to face her, seemingly on alert.

"Edward," she whispered, a sense of pleading in her voice.

She watched as he swallowed, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment before he spoke once more. "Come, let's get you settled in."

* * *

"Alright, love?" He asked now, after properly showing her around the apartment he had leased for them. Her own makeshift prison.

"I'm fine," she answered, as she surveyed the various locks on the front door. It seemed there were too many to count, if not to break through. She saw with increasing dismay some even needed a key to be opened.

"I'm sorry about the locks, but that's just how it's going to be until I can trust you." He brushed his fingers along the underside of her jaw so that she looked into his eyes instead.

She didn't give a reply.

"But you're free to roam wherever you want in the apartment. As you've seen, I've tried to make everything to your liking."

He wasn't wrong. The apartment looked like a carbon copy of her own back home, now abandoned and empty without her. She wondered silently who had been the first to realize she was missing. Mrs. Cope, her neighbor that sometimes asked her to pick her up some groceries, or Alice or Rosalie, who would have called her by now to see what she was up to.

She knew, however, without a doubt in her mind that the reason her face had flashed on the news within a day of being missing meant her father was doing whatever he could to find her. She only hoped she would be able to survive however long it was before he did.

With that thought, she joined Edward in unpacking her things, and braced herself for whatever was coming next.

After her clothes were put away, and her books lined the bookshelves along the wall, it had been time for dinner. She watched him while sitting at the small oval table.

A spark had lit his body, and joy seemed to radiate from his hands in the form of tremors. She didn't know whether to feel disturbed, or sorry for him. Redness crept on his neck as he felt her stare on his face.

"Edward, just how long do you think this will last?" She asked, while he stirred the mashed potatoes on the stove top.

His hand stilled, his body stiffening. "Dinner will be done in a few moments, love," he replied, feigning ignorance.

"How long?" Bella asked again, with a strength in her voice she didn't recognize.

" _However long I want_!" He shouted with conviction, slamming his hand down on the marble counter top.

The force he had used made Bella jump, her shoulders jerking in fear. She watched a vein in his neck jut out, the blue beneath his skin signaling to her that there was no reaching him. His anger, she knew, stemmed from fear of losing her. And as long as she asked about being let go, or surveyed the apartment with eyes of dismay, he'd lash out at her and make sure she was more trapped than ever.

She felt hot tears collect in her eyes at how stupid she was being. _I should be building his trust, not pushing him away._ She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, and looked down at the table as he set her food in front of her. She felt his hand run down her spine before turning to sit across from her. He nodded, signaling she could begin to eat.

 _You need to pretend, Bella. Pretend, and then you'll be able to escape._

* * *

She'd been worried about what the night would entail, just how far Edward would be willing to go now that he had her all to himself. It seemed he had a point to prove, and Bella knew he wouldn't stop until it had been made.

She felt his lips brush against the back of her neck, soft with a brush of stubble from his jaw. His hand reached slowly along her waist, until he grasped her left breast in his palm, his thumb stroking her nipple through the sheer material of the nightgown he'd forced her to wear.

"Edward," she began, a plea.

He began to grind into her backside, his hold on her chest tightening. "You feel so good, Bella." Suddenly he reached for her hand instead of her breast, bringing it behind her body to feel him.

He let out a low moan into her ear at the feel of her hesitant grip on his hard cock. He closed his hand over hers, tightening her grip.

"Bella," he moaned, sounding like a broken man. It was when he made her reach beneath his boxers that he almost came right then and there.

She began stroking him under his forceful guidance, her small hand gripping him like a vice. He began whimpering her name into her hair, urging her to go faster. She could feel his shivers rock the bed, the frame shifting beneath their weight.

"Yes, just like that, love." He groaned. "Feel my cock. It's hard for you."

A moment passed before she felt liquid warmth on her fingers, and his nose bury itself into her hair before he pressed his lips to the side of her head.

"I love you," he whispered before turning her over so she lay on her back, her frightened eyes trained on his face.

She had thought if she touched him like he wanted, maybe then he wouldn't touch her. It was with increasing dismay that she saw the pleasurable haze in his eyes, and knew she wouldn't be spared.

He began by lifting her sheer nightgown past her thighs, before pressing his fingers to the soft cotton that covered her nub. He rubbed the pads of his fingers in circles over the fabric until it became damp.

A knowing smile came to his lips before he asked, "Does that feel good, Bella?"

Her thighs trembled, and her voice felt stuck. He lowered his face, blowing air onto the damp material, making her aware of just how wet she was. Wet for him.

"No," she lied, squeezing her eyes shut. She could hear his knowing chuckle in the darkness, and could picture his smug smile as he continued to rub the part of her that made her head all fuzzy.

"No?" He asked, slipping his fingers beneath her panties to touch her soaking slit. He continued to mercilessly rub her clit, now without any barriers, while gazing into her eyes. "I think that feels very, very good."

She began to cry, knowing he was right.

"It's wrong," she whimpered, looking up at him.

He shook his head. "No, it's not." He leaned down to swallow and kiss away her sobs, bringing her to the brink over, and over until she had no other choice but to kiss him back.


End file.
